


Latin 101 With a Winchester

by RedHairedGoddess1



Series: Supernatural Tumblr Prompts [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Car Trouble, College, College Reader, College Sam, Consensual Sex, Dirty Talk, F/M, Help with studying, Humor, Latin Class, Librarian Sam, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Smut, all consensual, just read it, trust me - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 14:00:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6910192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHairedGoddess1/pseuds/RedHairedGoddess1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Imagine Sam trying to teach you Latin and thinking your mispronunciations are adorable.</p><p>...And it kind of just spiraled from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Latin 101 With a Winchester

Why did you even decide to take the class? You had absolutely no experience with the language and you didn’t even know where to start. You knew two languages and two languages only – English and bad English. ‘Oh don’t worry, you’ll get it,’ the counselor had said, ‘it will be fun,’ she said. She was obviously high on something and needed to come off it if she thought you could pass a goddamn Latin class.

For the past two hours, you had been pouring over your Latin textbook furiously, determined to force the alien words to actually make sense. The text was so not cooperating. You scowled. College wasn’t easy by any stretch of the imagination but for the most part you had been doing well. Passing with A’s and B’s and cruising along to your degree. Every class, while maybe not easy, was manageable. And then there was Latin. Determined to not let the subject make you its bitch, you chugged the rest of your coffee and went back to work.

Only to face plant into the book an hour later. Defeat corded your muscles. You were going to fail Latin. You were going to fail college. You wouldn’t get your dream job and you wouldn’t be able to support yourself. That meant no house, no car, no guy would want to date you which meant you would die old, alone and broke and no one would care. You glared at the pages under your cheek. Maybe you could just quit and become a stripper. 

Your dreadful musings came to an abrupt halt when a soft hand tapped your shoulder. You jumped and looked up. Above you, standing next to your table, was a god. Well…maybe not a god but damn if he didn’t look like one. Soft brown hair that curled at the nape of his neck, hazel eyes that danced with warmth and a tall, muscled frame coated in tan skin. He smiled down at you. Oh. My. Gods. He had dimples.

He was speaking. Shit. What did he say? Think Y/N think. But your brain was mashed potatoes with too much butter. Latin had boiled your brain and the appearance of Mr. Dimples had mashed them soundly. 

Luckily you were still able to speak, “Um sorry?”

He was kind enough to repeat, waving his hand at the book, “Are you okay? You’ve been here for almost three hours and you don’t seem to be having a good time.”

You smiled nervously, “No, no it’s okay. I’m okay. Just studying you know and… how did you know that I’ve been here for three hours?”

Dimples smiled again, “I work here part time. I’m a law student. My name’s Sam.”

“Oh I’m Y/N. But yeah I’m totally fine.” You waved blithely.

He wasn’t buying it if the skeptical gleam in his eye was anything to go by, “I’m sure. You uh have a note on your face by the way.”

“Huh?” Your confusion magically transformed into mortification when his graceful fingers gently tugged a mini sticky note from your cheek. The note was bright pink and covered with your scribbled hand writing. It must have been on the page where you face planted. How did you not notice? 

While Sam was looking over the note with curiosity, you were fighting the urge to enact seppuku and were mentally calling yourself ‘potato brain,’ over and over.

Dimple God spoke, “Latin? You’re taking a Latin class?”

“Unfortunately,” you sighed and stood up. “I thought I could could get in some early studying before next week’s exam but I’m pretty sure it’s pointless.” You started to gather your notes and other supplies but a large hand on yours had you halting.

Your Y/E/C eyes met his hazel ones and he blushed, drawing his hand away quickly, “I could help you if you want.”

“You could?” you answered with doubt.

He nodded, “I know quite a bit of Latin so I might be able to help.”

You thought about it and sighed mentally, it couldn’t hurt. You waved at the seat across from yours, “It would be great if you could. Thanks. I’m uh kind of drowning.”

“I could tell by the way you looked like you were ready to burn the book.” His lips quirked up in acute smile that bordered on a smirk. Instead of taking the seat you had indicated, he tugged one over and sat down right next to your chair. He patted your seat expectantly. With your own blush, you sat down next to him so that you were both facing your book, shoulder to shoulder.

While he looked over your notes and the practice test, you explained how the exam worked and the problems you were having. Latin made no sense to you and it was frustrating. You got the fundamentals like prefixes and root words and all that but when it came down to actually speaking Latin – you were lost. And speaking the words was what the main part of the test would be grading. You had to translate the phrases and then you would run through some basic conversation stuff with the professor in Latin. You were doomed.

“I just can’t seem to get the hang of it,” you concluded glumly. “and it’s too late to drop the class.”

Sam shook his head, your notebook in one hand and a pencil in the other, “I don’t think it’s that bad. You seem to understand how to translate from English to Latin and vice versa pretty well. I think it’s just your speaking that you need to work on. In a way it’s a good thing because I’m better with speaking Latin than I am at translating. I can help you practice.”

You nibbled at your lip. Nervous and anxious were now your middle names. This veritable angel was going to hear your butchered attempts at speaking Latin? Dear god put you out of your misery now. But you agreed…reluctantly.

Though you were horrifically nervous, Sam was kind and patient with you. He went through the basic greetings and conversation pieces. He would say them, you would repeat them back slowly and he would correct you where it was needed. He was sweet and helpful. 

Next he started getting into the harder stuff. He would ask you questions and you would have to create your own answers rather than just parroting memorized phrases. Sam could see that you were still uncertain so he made it fun asking silly stuff like, ‘how many ducks would could fit into your bathtub?’

Soon you were both laughing and cracking jokes in Latin. Luckily the library was mostly empty so you weren’t bothering anyone.

“Pulso pulso?” Sam asked. (Knock Knock) His pronunciation was perfect and eloquent.

You smiled and, though you stuttered at first, you managed, “Quis est?” (Who’s there?)

“Aliquam” (Orange).

“Aliquam quis?” you replied dutifully. (Orange who?)

“Aliquam venis ad me?” (Orange you going to let me in?)

You cracked up, breaking down into giggles again, “Oh my god that is the worst knock knock joke ever.”

He pretended to pout, “I thought really hard about that one you know.”

“Sure you did,” you grinned, “Well at least I understand what’s going on and I don’t sound as horrible. But compared to you I sound like a train wreck.”

“I think it’s cute,” he argued. “It’s adorable when you mispronounce them and you’re getting better.”

You shook your head, “You’re insane.” Absently you glanced at your watch and your eyes widened, it was late. Like super late. You were surprised no one had come along to kick you out since the library technically close an hour ago, but then you realized that since Sam worked here, he probably stayed later to help you. 

“Oh my god Sam, I am so sorry I kept you here so late. You should have said something.” You looked at him guiltily.

He smiled gently, “It’s okay, I was having fun. I’m just glad I was able to help you.”

“You did,” you nodded, “You were a huge help.” Awkward silence fell between the two of you until you cleared your throat, “Well uh. Yeah. I better…”

“Oh yeah, me too. Gotta close up.”

You started packing away your books and papers and stuffing them into your messenger bag. Sam stood up to go do librarian stuff. Your hands froze in their motions as you couldn’t help but stare at his denim clad ass as he walked away. He turned around to glance at you and, of course, caught you staring. Your face colored in a deep red to be caught with your eyes on his perfectly shaped derriere and you hastily looked down to finish shoving pens and pencils into your bag. You missed the smile that he directed your way, filled with smugness and a hint of heat.

Bag packed and belongings secure, you couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Ducking by him with your bag over your shoulder, you mumbled a thanks and practically ran from the building. Once you were outside, you heaved in lungful after lungful of glorious oxygen. You patted your still-warm cheeks and glanced back at the library. You shook your head and couldn’t help but feel disappointed in your own cowardice. You could have at least asked for his phone number. 

You made your way across the empty parking lot, dreading the twenty-minute drive home. You had decided to get a small apartment on the edge of town, away from campus and commuted to classes. Your apartment was small but nice despite being a bit rundown. Your car was likewise as shabby. An old jeep with more rust than paint that many of your friends graciously called a POS (piece of…well you get the idea). It ran well most days at least so you couldn’t complain.

The bagful of books was tossed into the passenger seat and you flung yourself into the driver’s. A pair of purple mini fuzzy dice dangled on your mirror. The car was clean, there were holes in the cloth upholstery and the passenger window didn’t work, but it was yours. You were grateful for the car and liked its worn-down charm.  
Five minutes into trying to start the engine and it not turn over, you were starting to rethink your opinion of the vehicle. You growled and swore, threatened and bribed but nothing would make the car start. You finally stomped from the car and opened the hood. Its creak was loud and obnoxious. Grrr. You knew as much about cars as you did Latin. You could change the oil, change the battery and do the basics but when it came to problem shooting – fuck if you knew what to do.

What now? Bus? You checked your phone, the next one wasn’t coming for an hour and it would take another hour to get home. Well fuck everything to hell and back.  
Your bad English skills were making a show as you looked over the car, getting on your tiptoes to try and see if it was something farther in, “Fucking shit balls, stupid ass, bastard twat nugget, damn it all.”

“Car trouble?” The voice startled you and you looked up to see Sam. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder and was watching you with lips that twitched with laughter. He had heard your tyrannical swear-fest then. Great. A shit-perfect end to the day.

You grumbled, bad mood taking away any charm you didn’t have, “Yeah. Damn thing won’t start. Know anything about cars?”

“Of course.” He replied easily. He set his bag down and looked inside. His significantly taller body made it easier for him to see. You watched him. He dug into the car. His tongue was stuck between his teeth in his effort. His hands suddenly tweaked something and you both watched the car. You with apprehension, him with expectancy. You then yelped in horror when your engine suddenly starting spraying something. It was dark and it shot right into the hollow of Sam’s throat and splattered him.

He yelled, hands immediately went to trying to find the source of the fountaining liquid to cut it off. You leapt forward to help instinctively. The spray caught you as well as you thrust your hands to find its source. You grimaced and fumbled around before your hand landed on something and you pulled it. The tube came free in your hand and the liquid stopped spouting. The two of you were left gasping, covered in dark sticky fluid that smelled bizarre.

You turned large eyes of astonishment on Sam and he shrugged nonchalantly, “Okay so I may not know much about cars.”

“That would have been nice to to know before I got covered in car vomit.” You looked down at yourself and groaned. Your shirt was beyond ruined, the green cloth covered in the fluid. It was on one of your cheeks and all in your Y/H/C hair. You moaned in misery, “This is just brilliant.”

Sam scratched the back of his, “Uh, I’m really sorry.” His eyes were suspiciously puppy-dog like as he turned them on you. They were large and drooping with sadness.  
Puppy-dog eyes and dimples. He was a weapon of god-like proportions. You sighed, “It’s okay Sam. You were just trying to help.” You looked at your watch. You had another forty-five minutes of waiting for the bus. “Thanks for your help but I better get to the bus stop.” You retrieved your bag and locked the jeep.

“Bus? Where do you live? How long will it take you to get home?” he asked.

“About an hour but it’s no big deal,” You shrug. You were just dreading being covered in this filth the entire way home. Story of my life, you thought as you started walking away. Sam jogged up to you and pulled you to a gentle stop. You turned around to look at him curiously.

“Spend the night at my place.” He blurted.

“Uh, what?”

“It’s a five-minute walk from here. You could clean up, sleep on my bed, I’ll take the couch. It will keep you from having to ride the bus home. It’s Friday so you don’t have classes tomorrow. I can ask a friend to take you home in the morning.”

You cocked your head to the side and couldn’t keep the humor from your voice, “How do you know I’m not some crazy serial axe killer?”

He put his hand over his heart in mock solemnity, “I trust you not to kill me in my sleep. Come on. It’s super late, it’s not safe for you to ride the bus anyway. Please, I’ll be worrying about you the entire night. I might not get sleep. I’ll fall ill and possibly die.” He ended dramatically and you laughed.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stay the night with you.” You surrendered. “But only because I would feel guilty if you died.”

He grinned and you both started to walk away from the library with Sam in the lead. You walked in silence, side by side. You were listening to the night time sounds of crickets, raccoons rifling through trash, and the thumping of distant music. 

It was half way to Sam’s house that you turned your eyes on him covertly. Sam moved with graced despite his long limbs. His every movement was filled muscled confidence though his touch whenever he guided you around a corner with a hand on your elbow was gentle. Strangely, he moved silently. Your old flats made small slap sounds on the concrete but, even though he was wearing work boots, his footsteps were silent. 

The rest of the walk was uneventful. Sam tugged you to a stop in front of a small house in a residential neighborhood. The building was quaint with some bushes on the side and on one window had a flower box. The flowers were perfectly cared for and happy. You cocked your head to the side. Your impression of Sam was still growing but you didn’t take him for a flower person. 

“After you.” His voice tugged you forward and over the threshold. 

You stood off to the side, running your fingers nervously over your bag’s strap and looking around. It had been with confidence that you had followed the male here but now you were anxious. The living room was small and connected to an equally small kitchen. You could spy what was probably a bathroom or a bedroom door down the hall way.

Sam set his bag down and looked at where you were standing uncertainly by the door. He walked over and gently relieved you of your bag and set it with his own. You just kind of stood there stiffly, unsure of what social protocol you were supposed to be following.

He shook his head at you, “Relax, take your shoes off. I’m going to get the shower running and you can clean that mess of you.”

You stuttered, “You can take the first one, I don’t mind.”

“You have more of it on you than I do. Just relax okay? I’ll be right back.” He didn’t wait for you to reply before walking down the hall into the bathroom. The bedroom must be farther down where you couldn’t see it. 

‘Well. Now what?’ you wondered. You toed off your flats and stood in your bare feet. It was with hesitation that you stepped farther into Sam’s home. Thin carpet met your toes. You looked around. The walls were bare, the couch was most likely a garage sale rescue and the only sign it was really lived in was the stack of books that Sam had left on the small plastic coffee table by the couch. He was a neat kind of guy. Your own apartment was cluttered with what your sister called, vintage-chic. Mismatched furniture, tie-dye curtains, posters from assorted bands, house plants, and books were everywhere. There were even those plastic glow in the dark stars stuck to your ceiling with putty. 

Sam had returned. He wordlessly grabbed your hand and pulled you to the bathroom. The water was running and steam was already starting to grow. 

“Use whatever you need. I have a spare toothbrush in the drawer if you want. I’ll bring you some clothes.” He smiled at you.

You smiled back, “Thanks Sam.” He stood there. “Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Was there anything else?”

“Nope.” 

You stared at him. The second he understood what you were leading to, he blushed and backed out of the bathroom, murmuring about the clothes. He shut the door behind him and you giggled. Clueless boys gave you life.

Peeling off your ruined top was a chore but you managed. Your jeans followed and then your mismatching underwear and bra. Luckily there was a plastic shopping bag under the sink that you used to stuff your clothes in. Your bra was in good shape but you refused to wear dirty underwear. Commando it was. You stepped into the shower and moaned out loud from the blissful temperature. It was perfect. The water washed away the car fluid, sweat and study-dust. It felt amazing.

The bliss was not to last though. You wanted Sam to have hot water too so you scrubbed down with his soap and washed your hair thoroughly. Ten minutes later you stepped out of the stall, turning the water off behind you, smelling pleasantly like Sam’s soap. The towel you wrapped around your torso was clean and soft and you cracked the door open to look around for Sam. At the bottom of the door was a pile of clothing. 

After grabbing the garments and shutting the door behind you, you examined the clothing Sam was generous enough to lend you. A pair of his sweatpants with a draw string and one of his t-shirts. You pulled the garments on gingerly. Everything was baggy of course but luckily you were able to tighten the pants so that they didn’t slip down. You toweled your hair to a mostly dry state, brushed your teeth and stepped from the bathroom. 13 minutes in the bathroom. A record for you. Your mom used to say that you took ‘Hollywood’ showers. No less than 30 minutes in the room was what you usually managed. 

You padded softly into the living room and then to the kitchen where Sam was fiddling with a tea kettle. He was frowning and muttering unhappily at the appliance.  
“You can have the shower now.”

He jumped and nearly dropped the kettle, “Oh okay. Sorry, I was hoping to have some tea ready for you when you got out.” He gestured with the kettle to the assortment of tea bags scattered on counter beside him. 

With a smile, you said, “Don’t worry about it. I’m not much of a tea drinker. Give me coffee any day of the week.” 

The relieved look on his face was staggering. He set the kettle down and excused himself to go take his own shower. As he walked by, his shoulder brushed yours and if you weren’t mistaken, he inhaled softly as he passed. Taking in the scent of his soap on you maybe? The moment was over though as he slipped past you. 

The water turned on and for the next 15 minutes that was the only thing to be heard in the house. You were nice enough to put the tea bags away as well as the kettle before sitting down on the couch. A check at your phone said no one had tried to get a hold of you. No surprise since you lived alone like Sam and no one would miss you for the night. You had thought about getting a fish at one point but never did.

You zoned out for the next few minutes, finger combing your hair and staring blankly out the wall across from you. The small house was quiet and dark. You wondered if you could convince Sam to just let you sleep on the couch. You didn’t want to put him out of his own bed even though you knew he would insist upon it. But the social anxiety and awkwardness you struggled with made you cringe at the thought of taking his bed from him. 

When Sam came out of the bathroom, you heard the door open and close. You had worked yourself up into a right snit about the whole bed thing so you sprang up from the couch to confront him about it. You stalked down the hallway to where Sam’s bedroom door was slightly cracked. His wet footprints led to that room so you knew that’s where you’d find him.

Bursting through the door, your mouth was already going, “Look I appreciate everything you’ve done for me but I simply cannot in good conscience – oh my god I am so sorry.” You back pedaled the way you came quickly, pushing your body backwards and plastering yourself to the wall in the hallway beside the door. Face aflame and fingers covering your eyes, you were uttering a string of apologies.

Sam had been standing in his room. Of course he had, it was his room after all. But he had stood in nothing but a towel that had hung low on his hips, the rest of his body bare to the eye. And good god what a body it was. Water had still been dripping down his skin. The droplets had traced over the hard planes of even more muscle that he had somehow managed to hide under his clothes. Defined pectorals and wash board abs. Sculpted calves and thighs. His biceps had been flexing as he had dried his hair, the movement halted when you had burst in. His wet hair had been slicked away from his face and his expression surprised. Welp. Time to to sink into a hole and disappear. 

“You can stop apologizing you know.” His voice was amused and you looked through your fingers at him. Then promptly closed them again with a squeak. He had mercifully put on some clothes but to say, ‘clothes’ was a bit of an overstep. He had put on a pair of boxers and nothing else. They weren’t the baggy, starched unattractive boxers that had hearts on them, oh no! They were the stretchy, tight fitting boxers that left little to the imagination. The brand name Saxx, stood out like a neon light. Crap.

He laughed slightly at your squeak and took your wrists, pulling your hands away gently, “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s my fault, I didn’t shut the door.”

Your humiliation was drowning every other emotion except for one, frustration, at him. Born of embarrassment and stress you snapped at him, “Stop doing that!”  
He blinked at you, “What?”

“Stop being so nice and kind, asshole.” You weren’t on your period so this mood swing made zero sense but you went with it. Irrational anger had you pushing at his chest, sending him back a step.

“You want me to stop being nice??” His surprise and confusion was understandable and his muttered words of, “Never heard that one before,” was followed by his glowing hazel eyes landing on you.

You were standing tall, in his baggy sweats, eyes seething, “Yes, I want you to stop it. You are the nicest, sweetest person ever and it makes me feel like shit. So stop it right now before I smack you.”

“Okay.” He replied simply. It was your turn to blink in confusion but then you yelped when he moved.

He strode forward, grabbed your shoulders and ducked his head in close. Your lips collided with his and you gasped against them. His tongue invaded your mouth, mapping out the cavern passionately. His body crowded close, and without breaking away, he backed your body up into the wall and kept kissing you. 

Oh he was good at kissing though. Sam had been so gentle; you would have expected his kiss to be the same but no. He kissed you like a man starved of human contact, ate your lips alive with bites and nibbles. He sucked on the bottom one roughly and then filled your mouth with tongue. 

You raised your hands. Instead of pushing him away, like you ordered them to, they grabbed him closer. You tilted your head to the side and returned the kiss. Biting his tongue and lip and pulling at the hair under your hand, you growled. He broke away with a gasp and looked at you in astonishment.

“Good god.” His lips fell on yours again hungrily.

Hands were everywhere and the only thing you could hear was the breath that the two of you shared. Sam seemed to have grown impatient with ducking to reach you so he lifted you up and you took the hint to wrap your legs around his waist. Oh this was much better. His hands were searing with heat where they were caressing your ribs before down to your thighs and ass. You pulled away from the kiss to slide your mouth to his throat and suck at a spot that had been teasing you. He groaned. It was the most wonderful sound you had ever heard. 

His palms slid under your borrowed shirt and found your bra-less chest. The sound you made was part gasp and part moan, his was all possessive and growling. Your nipples were pinched and tugged until you tossed your head back with a cry.

He attacked your throat, lips searing kisses into your skin, “You are amazing. You know that? Perfect.”

You bucked your hips against him, “You’re full of it.”

He bit your ear sharply, “You shouldn’t say such mean things. I might have to reprimand you for it.”

The look you sent him was smoldering and mocking, “You gonna punish me? Aw little Sammy’s a sadist then?”

“You have no idea.” His eyes darkened.

You really weren’t sure how he did it. Some Houdini magic trick or witchcraft but between one breath and the next, your shirt was gone as well as your pants.

“How the fuck did you even-”

His mouth fell against yours, silencing the question. The heat from his mouth chased away any thoughts you’d had. Question? What question?

You were nude, legs around him, hands in his hair and all you could do was grind against him and moan in desperation, “Just fuck me already you bastard.” 

He laughed. The sound was rich and dark, different from the light hearted on he had used so frequently earlier, “What happened to the sweet girl from earlier who had blushed when I caught her staring at my ass?”

I scowled, “She’s horny and impatient. And if you don’t get on with it, she’ll do it herself.”

He stared deep into your eyes as if you were this foreign thing that held unlimited levels of fascination for him, “You would, wouldn’t you. Finish yourself, take matters into your own hands. Would you fuck yourself on my dick?” He leaned in close and bit your ear before whispering, “Would you screw yourself silly on my cock Y/N? Until your dripping? Until you can’t even think straight.”

“It must be a pretty amazing dick if you think it can do that. You might need to put prove it.” You gasped.

He chuckled huskily, “Oh Y/N I’m going to have so much fun with you. I am going to fuck you until you can’t even walk.”

You licked your lips, “I can’t wait.”

His fingers danced down to drift around your center. He found your lips dripping wet and hot. His thumb pressed your clit and you keened.

“Mm yeah, cry for me. I want to see you cry, tears in those beautiful Y/E/C eyes. I want you to beg me to let you come. Or maybe fuck you until you don’t even know what you’re begging for. Salvation. Damnation. And only I can give it to you.”

He slipped a finger inside you and you jolted slightly. It had been a little while so you were tight but arousal was quickly loosening you. The slick your body produced made it easier. He fucked you with his finger, the long digit quickly joined by a second. You were losing your mind. His fingers were long, strong and unyielding, touching places deep inside you that your own fingers could never reach. 

When he added the third finger, you whined. His lips found spot on your collar bone to suck purple. Your patience, worn thin, finally snapped. Using his shoulders and the wall at your back for leverage, you lifted yourself up before sliding back down. You fucked yourself on his fingers. Hips rolling and teeth biting your bottom lip. Sam watched you with a fervor that should have you nervous but it didn’t. It made your temperature rise.

He drew his hand away and you swore, “Goddammit asshole, I swear if you-”

His mouth swallowed the rest of your words and effectively distracted you. While you were preoccupied with a battle for dominance with his tongue, he carried you back into his bedroom effortlessly. He allowed you to slip down to stand on the floor.

“Sam?” You wondered breathlessly.

The male just grinned at you and went about sliding his boxers off and kicked them away. Christ on a saltine cracker he was hung. Drool collected in your mouth and you dropped to your knees in front of him without a second thought. Sliding hands up his muscled thighs, you secured and balanced yourself. Even at half-mast he was impressive. Smooth skin with a pink head and vein running along the length that you couldn’t wait to run your tongue over.

Looking up, you nearly laughed at his stunned look. You quirked an eyebrow, “Don’t get the wrong idea Sammy-kins, I don’t kneel for everyone, you’re special.” He didn’t seem to have the words so your gaze went back to your prize.

You had a slight oral fixation when it came to this kind of thing. You never knew why but you did. Giving blow jobs was an empowering and extremely satisfying activity. To you at least. Watching a man lose every ounce of control as you slowly drove him insane, it was a power trip that you only allowed yourself to feel in the bedroom.

His cock met your lips as you leaned forward. You placed tiny kitten licks on the head, tongue pointing to dip into the indented tip, sliding your tongue down around the lipped edge. He tasted amazing. Overwhelming. Intoxicating. Your hand crept up to his balls and slid over them gently and he sucked in a breath. Licking a stripe along the vein had him grunting, sucking at the tip left him growling. So many wonderful sounds. You wrung each one from him with great enjoyment.

Finally, you looked up and met his eye. He held his breath as you took him fully into your mouth and started to take him in deeper. You had covered him in saliva so it was easy. You kept going. 

You could read him like a book in that moment. He wanted to know how far you could go, how much you could taking before gagging or having to draw for breath. His surprise was sweeter than chocolate ice cream when you paused midway and then in one push, took him down to the hilt. Your nose was buried against his pelvis and you could feel him shudder as you swallowed easily around his considerable length.

“How the fuck, where the hell are you putting that?” He wondered dazed. His voice was thick and his hand crept up to tighten in your hair. His fingers twisted in the strands roughly, pulling harshly but not painfully. 

You slowly drew back, lips tightened the entire time so that they dragged silkily against his skin. His spine stiffened and his hips twitched slightly. He was fighting the instinct to thrust into your mouth. The cock in your mouth was completely hard and full. You were practiced at this but even you had some difficulty stretching your lips around the impressive girth. It was a bit of challenge; remembering to breathe, keep your lips tighten, your cheeks hollowed while also not letting your teeth touch him – but you were managing.

You slid back down to the base, sucking and swallowing while saliva dripped from the corner of your mouth. You continued the up and down movement, push and pull. Swirling your tongue over the tip and swallowing when he hit the back of your throat. Over and over again. It was messy. It was heady. It was perfection.

Your own wetness was collecting at the lips of your pussy and dripping slightly. A drop or two tickled as it slid down your inner thigh. Your clit was throbbing. Sam groaned when you tightened your hands on his thighs to keep from touching yourself. You were driving both of you crazy.

Sam’s commendable control seemed to have thinned. He put his other hand in your hair. His large hands gripped your skull gently but securely and you looked up. His cheeks were flushed, eyes dark and he seemed to be waiting for your permission. 

You gave it by opening your mouth wider and relaxing your lips. Your tongue stuck out so that you could caress the bottom of his cock. Your next movement that had a spurt of precome dribbling from Sam’s dick was when you put your hands behind your back to signal that he had full reign. 

Sam gathered your hair into his hands and pulled your mouth down his cock slowly. He held you there, listening to you breathe through your nose, watching your face for any struggle. Then he pulled your back back just slow before pushing it back down. The speed of his movements increased. Push. Pull. Push. Pull. Then he started to thrust his hips every time he pushed you down, getting his cock deeper than you’d thought possible. Soon he was shoving his cock into your mouth, fucking your face quickly. Spit dripped from your lips. Small tears collected in your eyes. But you were in heaven. You hummed. You swallowed. You sighed and groaned. You moaned and whimpered.

Sam was thrilled with every noise you made and encouraged it. “God, you are such a slut aren’t you. I’m fucking your mouth and you can’t get enough. Perfect little cock slut. Your mouth is so perfect and hot. I bet you would like it if I came like this. Push my load down your throat and fed it to you until you burst.”

You moaned and closed your eyes in rapture, pleasepleaseplease was your mantra. You would have spoken them aloud if you could but oh the glorious knowledge that you couldn’t.

“Oh fuck. Fuck! You are just too perfect. I bet you would be the perfect whore. What if I just kept you here. Naked and ready for me to fuck whenever I want. Build you up into the perfect cum slut. Aw fuck.”

His cock was twitching and your eyes flew open. The glinting fever in your eyes matched his and your moan was more of a whine. Begging for it. But he denied you.  
He drew back, taking your head completely from his dick and the protesting noise you made was very unhappy. You seemed to have forgotten how to speak, how to verbally voice your displeasure but Sam knew what you wanted.

He chuckled, “I’d much rather fuck your other holes before I come.” Oh. Okay. Well who were you to complain? He saw the excitement on your face and smiled.

He gently pulled you to your feet and kissed your lips softly. Your head was still spinning a little from the rough fucking of your mouth. When he hauled you up and tossed you on the bed, you blinked owlishly at the sudden change. The bed was huge and the mattress soft. Dark blue bed coverings were silken under your nude body, caressing your skin. 

You’d landed on your back and Sam chuckled, “You are so beautiful like that. Blushing. Hot. So worked up.” And you were worked up. You were gasping, trembling and aching. Your pussy was literally throbbing with need. The need and craving to be fucked hard. You were so aroused it was painful. And Sam was still standing. Just looking at you, eyes eating you up. He was about to learn that you were a bit of a tease.

You shifted a bit and laid flat on your back, hair fanned out and body glowing in the dim light of the small desk lamp that was on beside the bed. You looked at Sam, bit your lip just slightly. His body was strung tight like a chord and his eyes were on fire. You put your hand above your head, arching your back and sighing. The icing on the cake was when you bent your legs at the knees and spread them wide so that everything was on view. No doubt the dampness between your thighs was shining in the light. 

“You are a fucking tease.” Sam’s eyes seemed to grow darker and darker. “And I’m going to fuck you like a whore. Stretch you wide. Make you scream.”

“Promises promises Sam.” You taunted.

He fell on you like a ravenous creature, kissing you before trailing his lips down to suck and bite at a spot on your throat. You groaned and then cried out as he sucked hard. The spot was sure to be purple later but who cared?

He was taking too long. His hands massaged your breasts before pulling at your nipples gently. Gently! His movements seemed to have taken on a layer of sudden caution and you didn’t like it.

You hissed in his ear, “I am not a china doll Sam! I like it rough. I like the bruises. I like it when you make me scream. Now fuck me like you mean it, son of a bitch.”

Some people have said that you have two personalities when it came to sex. You were shy and blushing until it came down to it and then you were the biggest two-dime slut around. Impatient and horny all around. Always wanting to be fucked hard but never finding someone who could do it properly. Someone who could fuck you within an inch of it being too much and make you scream. Maybe Sam could do that.

At your desperate words, his breath hitched. A growl rumbled in his chest and then he was flipping you both over so that he was on his back and you were on top. The sudden change startled you and you looked down at him.

His eyes glowed with lust and he bared his teeth, little Sammy had some bite to him, “Show me how you want it, slut. Fuck yourself on my dick until I’ve had my fill.”  
You could do that. Your grin was more of a feral stretch of lip over teeth and then you were on your knees. Your legs framed his hips and you were sitting on his pelvis with his dick under you, that hard length resting against your core. By taking up a hard grinding motion, you rubbed his cock against your clit just right. You moaned. But you wanted more.

Sliding up and down his hard length a few more times left him slick with your wetness. Perfect. You lifted yourself up a bit and reached down to grab him. He watched you, licking his lips, as you fit the fat head of his cock to your entrance and began to slowly push down. You tossed your head back in pleasure and pain. He was huge. He was thick and long and stretched you perfectly in every way. 

You slid down until he was completely inside you. You clenched experimentally and you both moaned. So full. So perfect.

“Such a good cock slut. Filling yourself up with my dick. Show me how desperate you are.” Sam whispered.

You placed your hands on your chest and shifted to that perfect angle so that you could rock back against him, withdrawing your hips until his cock was ¾ of the way out before sliding back down. Soon you were slamming yourself down on him, fucking yourself silly. 

Breathy gasps of, “Yes. Oh fuck yes. So hard. So deep. Fuck me. Oh fuck yes,” fell from your lips. Sam looked as if he was holding himself back. You raked your fingernails down his chest and he hissed. You growled down at him, “Didn’t you hear me? I said fuck me-” you ended on a shout when his hips rose to meet yours. As you shoved yourself down, he rocketed up to meet you, shoving his cock deeper than should have been possible. 

Your pace increased until your breasts were bouncing in tandem with your body. His hands were on your hips, dragging you down to meet his thrusts violently. 

Before you realized what was happening, he was standing up, taking you with him. His dick was still deep inside you. A wall met your back as he slammed you into it. You grunted at the impact but then he was fucking into you again. Your legs wrapped tight around his waist, his hands pulling on your hair, eyes glued on one another.  
His next thrust had you grunting and then you laughed, “Yes! God, fucking hell yes fuck me hard Sam. Please. So close. Please fuck me.” You sounded like a cheap hooker but couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Tell me how bad you need it.” He snarled in your ear.

“Need it bad. Please Sam. Fill me your cum. Make your cum slut. Need it. Oh fuck. I love your cock. So perfect.”

Your back thumped against the door as he shoved into you repeatedly, never losing pace. His hand crept between your bodies to find your clit. He pressed it with his thumb before pinching it between two fingers.

You screamed, nails raking down his back as your walls clamped down around him like a vice. The orgasm ripped through you. Sam wasn’t far behind with his own. He came with a strangled bellow. And fucked into you deep.

After shocks made you both tremble but somehow he managed to get the two of you over to the bed. His hands smoothed over your body soothingly, whispered praises brought a smile to your face. He spooned you from behind, your back to his front, as sleep quickly took possession of you. He was pressing kisses against your hair, his cum oozing out sluggishly between your thighs and you smiled. Hopefully he didn’t mind the two different “personalities.” You didn’t think he was complaining. Thinking was too much work so you let sleep take you.

XXX

You woke up laying tucked into Sam’s side, head pillowed by his chest. His fingers were twirling and playing in your hair so you knew he was awake. You smiled shyly up at him and he returned the look flirtatiously. You had never slept with a guy one on the first date before. Well, technically it wasn’t even a date. You didn’t even know his last name. But you couldn’t find it in you to regret your actions. You snuggled into him more, wanting to soak in as much of the moment as possible. 

“Last night was amazing.” He whispered. You nodded in agreement, eyes shutting sleepily.

“We should do it again some time.” He continued. His voice was serious but with a playful edge to it.

You went to nod again, but before you could, “Yeah, it looks like you two had fun.” A voice said. It was heated and husky and had your eyes shooting open in alarm and looking behind you.

Standing beside the bed, hovering over you and Sam, was a stranger. He had green eyes, freckles and dark blonde hair. You gasped and tensed to move. You didn’t know what you were going to do really. Maybe grab the sheet to cover your nakedness since it was tangled at your ankles, leaving you and Sam bare. Your torso was pressed against Sam but with the way those green eyes roved over you, it made you feel as if he could see everything.

Before you moved though, Sam’s arm, which had been curled around you loosely, tightened until it was like a steel bar, caging you to him. Your arms were pinned and you couldn’t move. 

“Sam?” You were panicked, kicking your legs only to have one of his swing over yours and hold them down. You were effectively trapped by his larger body.

A hand was on your shoulder, gliding down your ribs, down the dip in your waist, to rest on your hip. You flinched at the touch but couldn’t move away. 

When you looked behind you, the stranger was grinning. The grin held a feral edge that had you trembling and cringing away, “She looks like a nice fuck Sammy. I like her.”

His eyes flashed and yours widened. The green iris, pupil, and sclera, the entire eye was suddenly drowned in black. It swallowed the orb in midnight. His hand tightened, bruising your flesh.

“I do too. I was thinking we could keep her.” Sam chuckled. It wasn’t like his gentle, kind laughter from last night, filled with boyish innocence. This laughter was dark and menacing and had you looking up at your lover through tangled hair. 

The hazel eyes you had stared into all night long were gone, to be replaced by a marbled yellow and black color that swirled dangerously.

You were frozen, screaming crossed your mind but the urge fled as soon as it appeared. Your body was sinking, mind going dark and you knew one of the two were responsible. What were they? You wanted to ask. You wanted to flee but instead you sank slowly into unconsciousness.

Sam’s words filled your ears before you fell under, “Don’t worry Y/N Dean and I are really good at sharing. You’ll enjoy it.”

You couldn’t fight the curtain that fell over your eyes and mind, taking you away.


End file.
